


there's envy in my bones - it's red, white, and blue

by Roodles



Series: Not a Cellist [4]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Angst, Dating, Insecurity, Jealousy, Lots of Tony feels actually, M/M, Marriage, Mentions of Steve Rogers/Captain America - Freeform, Pancakes, Tony Feels, Tony centric, established Tony/Phil, ironagent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 05:59:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roodles/pseuds/Roodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Phil and Tony move through the stages of their relationship, Tony reflects on Phil's love for the ultimate American Hero, and how he will never, ever measure up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. enshrined

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Hello everyone! Hope you had a good New Year's and that 2014 is treating you well! 
> 
> I'd waffled on posting this, since there's another chapter of Let's Celebrate on its way, but I realized I can post whenever and however I like, and decided to go right on ahead (I'm also rather sad today, so I wanted to make myself feel better, haha.)
> 
> As always, I'd like to give a huge, huge shout out to everyone who comments and leaves kudos. It means a lot to me that you all take the time to let me know how I'm doing. I will never hold chapters hostage for reviews, but it is really encouraging to get feedback!
> 
> Another shout out to Evan S. Ent, who throws out fantastic ideas that I can't help but run with. Thanks so much!
> 
>  **there's envy in my bones** is a three part series, dealing with Tony's serious insecurities over one Steve Rogers/Captain America. They're short, but jam packed with feels. This work will have 3 chapters, with the second chapter coming in the next day or so. Hopefully I can come back with some fluff after this maelstrom of angst. 
> 
> Wow. Super long note! Also, if you check the main series page, I've listed and linked the works in chronological order!  
> As always, I have no beta so all errors are mine.

Tony and Phil's relationship had started with sarcasm and thinly veiled threats of violence,  nearly ending with Phil's shrine to one Captain America.

Some six months into the relationship, when they'd moved on from rather naughty encounters in shadowy corners and bathroom stalls to something that smelled suspiciously like monogamy, Phil told Tony that there was something he needed to show him.

Phil's uncharacteristic shyness on the matter should have been Tony's first tip off. Phil lived his life with his placid smile firmly in place; shy wasn't in his repertoire. It all became clear when Tony was let into the one room he'd been forbidden to enter in Phil's generously sized (if empty) apartment. A nondescript door opened into what could only be described as a fanboy's heaven or a collector's wet dream.

Red, white, and blue adorned every available surface: action figures, posters, framed first editions of comics, paraphernalia, models, trading cards. Phil had it all, and Tony felt an uncomfortable trill of irony that some of the pieces had come from his old man's collection. Tony knew for a fact that his old man's secret stash of Captain America memorabilia was unparalleled, though Phil came close. Maybe someday Tony could take him into the musty storage room that housed most of Steve Rogers' worldly possessions.

Tony had grown up loving the Captain, both out of a desperate need for his father's affection and from the need to believe there was a greater good. It seemed that Phil loved Captain America more (not that Tony had an issue with that.) The hero worship didn't bother Tony so much as the memories associated with them: his father was always in the arctic, searching and searching while his mother drank herself into a depression that she never recovered from. There was always a standard, and Tony never measured up. Steve Rogers was the greatest man Howard Stark ever knew, and Tony would never come close, as either a man or a son.

He dimly realized that Phil was still in the doorway, tense and wearing his 'Agent Face', which Tony kind of hated.

"Do you have Captain America underwear?" Tony asked without thinking.

The furrowing of Phil's brow and the tightening of his jaw were both indicators that Tony should have paid attention to, but he was stuck in a loop of _not good enough_ and _Captain America ruined my childhood_.

 

"I don't think that's really important," Phil said in a level, neutral tone.

"It sure is, Agent Man. I'm impressed, though. I don't think I've seen such a brilliant display of obsession and flag motifs."

"Please get out, Stark," Phil said, his voice never wavering.

"Back to that, huh? Yeah, I'll go. I don't know if I want Steve Rogers judging me for thinking about your kinky underwear."

"Get. Out."

Something flared up in the back of Tony's mind. He'd overstepped, and while he wasn't an expert on body language, Phil looked as though he was going to bodily throw him out of the room without making sure there was something soft to land on. Considering it a tactical retreat, Tony backed out of the room and moved into the den. He'd fucked up somewhere, probably in the Shrine to Patriotism.

It took a few minutes, but Phil had regained his composure by the time he'd locked the door, though he radiated tension as he moved past Tony to get to the kitchen. Tony wasn't sure whether he wanted to poke the man, or attempt to soothe his ire with sex and apologies. He didn't have to do either as Phil turned back with a glass of water held in a white knuckled grip.

"Happy is on his way."

"You called my driver? Why do you have his number? Should you? Are you conspiring against me?" Tony rattled off, turning an about face that led into a lively round of pacing.

"Yes," Phil answered simply, taking a sip of his water.

Something niggled in the back of Tony's mind. Possibly a twinge in his chest, though he was pretty damned healthy with the exception of his liver. It had never fully recovered from MIT. Pacing without any regard for his lover-boyfriend-some guy that Tony happened to really like, he finally finished navigating his mind scape to reach a conclusion. Damn.

"Oh shit. I hurt your feelings. Huh. I didn't know that was a thing. Is it a thing? Yeah, it's a thing," Tony rambled, running a hand through his hair.

"That might be an over exaggeration," Phil muttered, not meeting Tony's gaze.

"No. You don't get to do that. You are supposed to reliably call me on my bullshit. You are my roadside assistance, Agent Man."

"Did you just liken me to AAA?"

"Maybe?"

"This is why no one would call on you for negotiations."

"I take offense to that," Tony grumbled, moving into the kitchen.

"You should. It was intended."

"This started with a thing. Oh yeah, feelings. Your feelings. That I kind of insensitively curb stomped, which I think is kind of morbid, and Pepper wants me to take sensitivity classes for some reason, and I just don't-"

Phil clapped a hand over his mouth, blue eyes shining under the fluorescent kitchen lighting (ew), and Tony would think he was mad except for the thumb that was rubbing his cheek.

"You are an asshole," Phil began, "who is insensitive, overbearing, and more than a little spoiled."

Well. He wasn't wrong.

The glass of water clinked on the counter, their positions switched so fast it blurred his vision. His back hit the granite, digging almost uncomfortably as Phil crowded into his space, a leg between his knees. Huh

"I also realize I should have warned you, since you have issues with authority figures."

Tony licked his hand, grinning as Phil wiped it on his pants leg with an unamused look. Staying where he was, Tony reached into his rarely tapped well of sincerity.

"I don't have any issue with you, and Cap isn't an authority figure. Just a maelstrom of shitty memories of my shitty dad. Hey! I used maelstrom! That was from that book club thing you wanted me to do but didn't, and I'm sorry I made a crack about your Captain America thong, and I think we should do Italian tonight."

Their eyes met and held, and Tony was the first to move as he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Phil's. The kiss was slow and apologetic, a plea for forgiveness as he wrapped his arms around the other man's neck. There was no hurry, just a gentle meeting of mouths and the feeling of their bodies pressed together. Eventually, breathing became paramount; there they were in Phil's kitchen practically humping each other (sort of), foreheads pressed together while they panted.

"I think I said sorry somewhere."

"Apology accepted. How about that Italian?"

"Sounds good."

While waiting for Phil to shrug into his jacket and lace his shoes, Tony figured if he could accept a Captain America shrine, he could swing a monogamous relationship (or something close to it.) Phil was the kind of guy worth trying for. 

 


	2. i can number the ways (in which i don't deserve you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews and kudos, everyone! I'll say it over and over again: I really love getting feedback. I'm glad that others can enjoy Phil/Tony as much as I do!
> 
> That being said, there's more Tony feels ahead. Another short one. At some point, I'll post Tony when he's confident and self-assured, but there is none of that here. At all.
> 
> Some upcoming stuff...hmm. Another chapter of Let's Celebrate, a reunion piece (but which reunion?!), Coulson taking Fury to task, the Avengers' collective guilty conscience....fun stuff! And the third chapter to **there's envy in my bones**. Whee!!
> 
> Want to read Not a Cellist in [order?](http://archiveofourown.org/series/64708)  
> As always, I don't have a beta, so all errors are mine.

Before they defrosted the All American Hero, Tony had been pretty confident in his husband's fidelity. If Phil was going to cheat with anyone, it would have been Captain America. It was fortunate then, that Captain America was dead.  
  
Until he wasn't.  
  
The S.H.I.E.L.D. files weren't hard to hack; camera feeds, vital signs, and body temperature monitored the soldier as the careful thawing took place. Tony watched as his husband flitted around, batting at lower level agents like flies when they became a nuisance. Fury orchestrated the whole event, slotting Phil into a space where he would be able to watch the finale.  
  
Eventually, Tony had to stop watching.  
  
It had been a good month since Phil had been home for more than a couple of hours at a time, and he could hardly be blamed; it was his childhood hero, after all. It worked out, since Stark Tower was being built, and there was plenty of stuff to do with the arc reactor project. He fiddled with the Mark VII, tested his homing bracelets, stared at a bottle of Macallan longer than was healthy.  
  
What did Tony have to offer Phil now? A fucked up heart, a slew of daddy issues, a bad reputation, suits that he would never part with. He was Iron Man. He was Tony Stark. He was the sum of his parts, and his parts were _worthless_. Especially when he compared all of that to Captain America. To Steve Rogers. He had grown up on stories of Steve Rogers, the man who liberated Hydra camps, led raids, and ultimately sacrificed himself to save the world. _There was no comparison._  
  
Four years of marriage. That wasn't so long. Two or three years of dating before that. Had there been any mind control? Had Phil been drugged when they'd said their vows? It was beginning to look more and more likely as Tony broke their relationship down and turned it over and over in his mind, picking it apart piece by piece to find any form of reason for Phil to stay with him.  
  
Why would anyone want to marry Tony Stark, except for his money and the Iron Man suits?  


* * *

  
  
When Phil came back from whatever celebratory orgy S.H.I.E.L.D. had held, he was wearing a fragile smile that nearly broke Tony's heart. There was hope in that smile, with an excited exhalation of breath when Tony asked what he'd done in Spy Kids School. (The answer was "Classified", as always.) The man was so damned cheerful, that even his not-smile was blinding and too much to bear. Taking his wounded pride and breaking heart, Tony tucked his tail between his legs and hid out in the workshop.  
  
Figuring he was scheduled for binge inventing, Tony threw himself into unfinished projects, Iron Man armors, and debugging some of JARVIS' code. He couldn't have been down there for more than a few hours when a mug of coffee was set in front of his nose. It was a siren's call, as coffee was his main weakness (after the arc reactor, alcoholism, and Phil at the very top.) Peering up, Tony wondered when his vision went fuzzy, though it cleared easily enough to reveal Phil, dressed in a polo and slacks (as casual as he'd let himself get).  
  
"You disappeared so quickly, you'd think you were running from me," Phil stated, propping a hip on the work bench.  
  
Sipping his coffee, Tony knew better than to look up. There was blood in the water, and Phil was a fast swimmer. Fucking shark. It had to be S.H.I.E.L.D.'s doing. His free hand fiddled with a screwdriver, pinky lifting to swipe at the holo-screens and tinker with nothing in particular. He was on the verge of getting lost in an actual project when Phil cleared his throat.  
  
"Tony."  
He couldn't look up. He couldn't let Phil see his weakness, his failure. He was Tony Fucking Stark, but he'd never be Captain America.  
  
"There are threats, and then there are references to the Super Nanny Incident. I have every faith you'll make the right decision."  
"Blackmail," Tony growled, his voice hoarse. The Super Nanny Incident should never be repeated. Ever.  
"Then let's go upstairs. Pepper's gone for the day, I can make pancakes. You can attempt the eggs. We'll watch some Star Trek."  
"Are you catering to me or are you pandering?"  
"I like to think of it as a mix of both," Phil replied, voice lowering.  
  
Inhaling the rest of the coffee, Tony finally looked up to see the worry flit across his husband's expression before it was squirreled away into Phil Coulson's Box of "Nonexistent" Emotions. Gaze trailing downward, Tony noticed that Phil's arms were crossed, the sleeves loose over the wiry muscle that never failed to surprise Tony. The man very rarely dressed down, usually preferring to stay in his damned suit from sunup to sundown (though it was great for strip poker and games of 'Quick! Strip Each Other!'.) It meant that Phil had a very good day, and he wanted to share that with Tony.

"It's only because you're bribing me with pancakes and sex," Tony grumbled, sliding off his stool. A flick of his wrist and JARVIS saved all of his projects and cancelled the holo-screens. The workshop seemed inherently too bright without the blue glow, so it only added to his grumbling as he shuffled the two steps to his husband.  
  
"They work every time," was the smug reply as Tony allowed himself to be enveloped in a tight hug. "I'm sorry I haven't been home much. Work has been pretty hectic."  
  
( _Yes, oh so hectic. Resurrecting your hero will do that to you.)_  
  
"S'ok," Tony murmured against the fabric of Phil's shirt. He felt tired. Why did he feel tired?  
"Let's go upstairs. I dislike asking DUM-E to haul you into the elevator."  
"When have you had to do that?" Tony asked, faking indignation.  
"I'll have JARVIS make you a music video."  
"Traitors. All of you."  
  
Making their way up to their apartment level (which was not actually the penthouse level), Tony went about scrambling eggs. Focusing on the plebeian task, he was able to ignore the well of hurt that ached behind the arc reactor. Phil was here, with him. He had come home. He would always come home. He'd promised.  
  
Phil busied himself with making pancakes (with blueberries, which were Tony's favorite), humming the 'Star Spangled Man' under his breath. On the verge of hysteria, Tony finished the eggs, put extra pepper on Phil's, and plated them in preparation for the pancakes. With the excuse of fetching syrup and browsing an entirely unnecessary DVD collection, Tony hid out in the living room until Phil appeared with the plates. By waving Aunt Jemima and flashing a sheepish grin, Tony escaped a lecture and was able to claim his spot on the couch without Phil hogging the pillows.  
  
Sitting on the comfiest couch Phil's trip to the furniture store could buy, Tony felt his worries roll off his shoulders, disappearing into the cushions while he poured syrup onto his pancakes. Phil sat next to him, close enough that they were touching at knees, hips, shoulders and everywhere in between. Tony blinked at the dry kiss to his cheek, only able to huff out a breath in response as he attacked his pancakes.  
  
"JARVIS, please play Star Trek from where we left off," Phil asked, methodically cutting his pancakes into precise squares. There was a thin line of ketchup over his eggs,(which Tony still found absolutely ridiculous), butter on his pancakes, but no syrup.  
  
"Yes, Sir," JARVIS intoned before lowering the lights and turning the television on. Theme music played in the background, and if Tony happened to press against his husband to chase away his insecurities, only the three of them would know.  
  
"We'll talk later," Phil promised in between bites of his dinner. "Then, we are spending my entire leave in bed."  
"All of it?" Tony perked up.  
"All of it that doesn't need to be spent on bodily functions and eating, yes."  
"Fuck yeah."  
  
Take that, Captain Asshole.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments/kudos welcome!


	3. Well, these days I'm fine (No, these days I tend to lie) Pt 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:**
> 
> It's been so long! Sorry, everyone! 
> 
> I had initially wanted _there's envy in my bones_ to be a solid three chapters, but after transcribing most of Avengers, I realized it could be split up. I've tried to follow the movie as faithfully as I was able, but I may have missed a few things. One or two more will immediately follow this one.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who follows/comments! And as always, a shout out to my beta **BigTimeHiddlestoner**!

As Tony landed and the armor gantry engaged, JARVIS' voice echoed through the helmet comm.

"Sir, Agent Coulson of SHIELD is on the line."

If asked, Tony would deny that his whole body had jerked backwards, or that the air had seemingly escaped his lungs in a painful _whoosh._ Since he wasn't asked, none of those things technically happened.

As the armor disassembled, Tony fell on tried and true sarcasm. "I'm not in. I'm actually out," he quipped as the last of the armor was peeled away by the gantry.

"Sir, I'm afraid he's insistent," JARVIS urged, knowing full well that Tony was not very fond of Phil at the moment.

"Grow a spine, JARVIS. I have things to do."

While he bantered with Pepper (which was really an autopilot thing at this point), Tony considered the repercussions of Phil contacting him now, after his two month long sequestration with SHIELD. They'd hardly spoken, rarely sent emails, and Tony's attempts at sexting had been shot down.

As Pepper warned him of incoming retribution, Tony seized on a random topic to harass her about in an attempt to derail his brain's really shitty thoughts.

"The security SNAFU? That was on you. _My_ private elevator."

"You mean _our_ elevator?"

"It was teeming with sweaty workmen. Were you trying to tempt me? I'll pay for that comment about percentages in some subtle way, won't I?" Tony tacked on, slightly uncomfortable with the inevitable wrath of his CEO and friend.

"I'm not going to be subtle," Pepper purred, eyes narrowed over her champagne glass.

JARVIS spoke up again, his voice a mixture of distress and affront.

"Sir, the telephone. I'm afraid my protocols are being overridden." Only two people in the entire world could override JARVIS. One was sitting next to him, and the other was supposed to be some twenty thousand feet in the air, or corralling super soldiers into group photos or some shit.

"Mr. Stark, we need to talk."

The simultaneous breath of relief and tensing of his shoulders did nothing to soothe Tony's ire; if anything, he ramped up the snark as he pulled out his StarkPhone.

"You have reached the Life Model Decoy of Tony Stark. Please leave a message."

Pepper stifled a giggle with a sip of champagne, eyes sparkling. Happy was lucky in that Tony was already semi-happily married. Thankfully, Phil wasn't in her good graces at the moment, which meant she was uncharacteristically rooting for Tony to be a jackass.

"This is urgent," Phil replied, his voice calm as ever.

"Then leave it urgently," Tony snapped, baring his teeth at the holo-screen.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a harried Phil carrying a bulky briefing "packet". It was a shame Tony refused to sell Fury StarkTech; their shit was awful. Phil was the only one who benefited from Tony's genius, though it was mostly defensive gear.

"Security breach!" Tony barked, turning to Pepper as she stood up. "It's on you," he muttered, looking up to glare at his husband.

"Phil! Come in!" Pepper crowed, obviously no longer on Team Tony. Traitor.

"'Phil'?" Tony grumbled, crossing his arms.

"I can't stay," Phil said immediately.

Rubbing at his chest, Tony wondered if the arc reactor was settling, or if the piece of metal stuffed into his chest cavity was going to kill him slowly and uncomfortably without the use of metal poisoning.

Whatever it was, it hurt. If anyone accused him of heartbreak, well. Since they hadn't, it most definitely wasn't anything related to feelings.

"Uh, his first name is 'Agent'," Tony called out, though Pepper was ignoring him. Fuck it.

"Come on in! We're celebrating," Pepper cajoled, meeting him at the steps leading to the elevator.

"Which is why he can't stay," Tony growled. The man couldn't so much as send a goddamned email in two months, yet he could darken Tony's doorstep and expect him to jump on command? While he'd never be the poster child for understanding the nuances of human interaction, even Tony knew that this was fucked up.

Pulling the case out from under his arm, Phil held it out. "We need you to look this over, as soon as possible."

Tony flinched back, years of trauma resurfacing with a lot of his teenage therapist's psychobabble, and fuckthiswasPhil _why_. "I don't like being handed things," he croaked, voice hoarse.

Phil shifted slightly, adjusting so his stance was as non-threatening as possible. Leaning away from Tony's personal radius of comfort, his brow furrowed slightly even as his expression remained unchanged. Tony knew was he was thinking; he hadn't reacted like that in years.

"That's fine, because I love to be handed things, so let's trade," Pepper interjected, smoothing over the tension by trading her glass for Phil's, and Tony's glass for the case. "Thank you."

Tony looked at the case, taking a deep breath before leveling Phil with a mocking stare.

"Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday," he drawled.

"This isn't a consultation," Phil replied, eyes tracking Tony across the room. Tony wasted no time in opening the case, slotting the glass screen into the dock and flicking through the data while meandering to the nearest terminal (not that he kept more than one in any given room or anything).

"Is this about the Avengers? Which I know nothing about," Pepper babbled, looking between Phil and Tony. She was trying, and Tony would give her that. She was supposed to be Team Tony, though, and her eagerness to welcome Phil back into the fold grated on his nerves.

"The Avengers Initiative was scrapped," Tony called out. "I thought," a pause, "and I didn't even qualify."

"...I didn't know that either," Pepper chimed in.

"Yeah, apparently I'm 'volatile, self-obsessed, don't play well with others'," Tony snarled as he reached the terminal, setting the case down to shoot a glare over his shoulder at Phil.

"That I did know," Pepper said, a note of agreement in her voice. Traitor.

Tony took great satisfaction in his husband's discomfort as he shifted on the balls of his feet and rolled his shoulders backward, clearing his throat before he spoke, "This isn't about personality profiles anymore."

He wanted to scream that it never was about personality profiles, or Captain Fucking America, or whether Iron Man could play well with others. This was about Phil Coulson-Stark and Tony Coulson-Stark and how their marriage was riddled with filigree cracks.

"Whatever," Tony grumbled, quirking a finger at Pepper. "Ms. Potts, got a second?"

"Half a mo?" Pepper said to Phil, loud enough for Tony to hear as she walked across the penthouse floor.

"You know, I thought we were having a moment."

"I was having 12% of a moment," Pepper retorted, then glanced over her shoulder at Phil, who was still standing just outside of the elevator, hands clasped in front. "Phil's pretty shaken."

"How would you know if it's...Why is he 'Phil' now? What happened to Coulson? What about Team Tony?" He rambled, tapping out the access codes and superseding the SHIELD case's protocols with his own.

"What is all this?" Pepper asked, peering at the glass.

"This is…" Tony murmured, tapping one last code, "This."

The room was filled with video feeds of the other candidates for the Avengers Initiative, superheroes in their own right. Explosions, hulking green monsters wrecking Harlem (Tony would argue that one), super soldiers. It was supposedly his first confirmation of Captain America's revival, though Tony couldn't resist swiping away any evidence of the good captain from the holo-screens; Phil could take up his peep show on the helicarrier.

Pepper stared up at the display in awe, and Tony could see the subtle shift from Pepper to CEO.

"I'm going to take the jet to DC tonight," she murmured. She was going to leave him with Phil, was entirely unfair.

"Tomorrow." He wasn't begging her to stay. No siree.

"You have homework. You have a lot of homework," Pepper pointed out, tilting her head in Phil's direction. Of course she'd expect them to kiss and make up.

"Well, what if I didn't?" Tony grumbled, looking at everything in the room except Phil.

"If you didn't?"

"Yeah."

"You mean when you've finished?" Pepper asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Are you mocking me?" Tony hissed, glaring at her. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, and he was relieved to find she wasn't sending him into a spiral of panic and self-loathing. Good ol' Pep.

"When you've finished saving the world, I'm sending you on a vacation. I will railroad Fury into giving Phil time off, and you two will go somewhere. Tahiti, maybe. You will work out your differences, have lots of hate sex, makeup sex, and whatever the hell it is you do, and you will come back better for it."

Tony's eyes widen, and he knows that his face is a little red. God knows what Phil was thinking, since he was outright shuffling and looking away from the two of them. Pepper's offering something that Tony's been craving for months, and God does he want that.

"Square deal," Tony said quickly.

"Fly safe."

Pepper kissed him on the cheek, giving him a quick hug before pulling back and smiling.

"Work hard." She walked across the room, meeting Phil at the elevator. "So, any chance you're dropping by LaGuardia?"

Phil smiled, though it was obviously forced. (Obvious to Tony, at least). "I can drop you."

"Fantastic."

Phil looked up at Tony as they shuffled into the elevator, his expression unreadable as Pepper prattled on. They'd known their marriage was going to be difficult from the get go; it was just... Tony hadn't anticipated it would hurt so much.

Pepper's voice echoed out of the elevator as the doors began to shut.

"I want to hear about your plans - are they still good to go?"

"The contractor moved out of Portland. The project's on hold."

"What? Boo!"

The doors slid shut, the ache in Tony's chest returning. Rubbing at the arc reactor, Tony stared at the displays and wished that it didn't feel like he was losing the a piece of himself every time Phil walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Thanks for reading! Comments/kudos are welcome!_


	4. Well, these days I'm fine (No, these days I tend to lie) Pt 2

**A/N:**

Here's another! A bit short, sorry...but not. Enjoy the angst!

Once again, I transcribed this from the Avengers, so Phil and Steve's conversation is as verbatim as I could get it. Another big thanks to **BigTimeHiddlestoner** and to everyone who comments/bookmarks/etc!

* * *

 

Tony had a penchant for self abuse. He'd started young, toddling after his father in an attempt to find even a shred of love. Instead, he'd found disappointment and scorn, and he kept going back in search of different results. He constantly tried to be better, the best even, though all the science fair trophies in the world would never garner his father's attention. At MIT, he started to abuse himself in other ways; wild sex, alcohol, and on occasion, drugs. All in an effort to numb the bitter taste of rejection.

Until Phil, Tony had excelled at making decisions that were exceptionally detrimental to his health. Partying, drinking, living in the fast lane. His body was no temple, though he did like to feel good as often as he could; it made the emptiness recede a bit.

While Tony no longer drank, slept around, or did too many dangerous things outside of the suit, patching himself into the SHIELD comms did nothing for his mental wellbeing. It was the most exquisitely painful form of torture, listening to his husband's stammering conversation with Steve Rogers.

The conversation had started out simply enough. Without a video feed, Tony could only go by voice patterns and fluctuations. Phil had very few tells, so Tony was torturing himself needlessly. Yet he needed to know. He needed to hear how his husband interacted with the biggest threat to their marriage since Tony's palladium poisoning.

"So this Dr. Banner was trying to replicate the serum they used on me?" Rogers asked, presumably looking up from an info packet on Banner.

"A lot of people were. You were the world's first superhero." The reverence in Phil's voice threatened to make him nauseous. "Banner thought that gamma radiation might be the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

"Didn't really go his way, did it?" Rogers replied, a hitch to his voice that had Tony thinking uncharitable things.

"Not so much. When he's not that thing, though, the guy's like a Stephen Hawking."

Tony had to repress a surge of affection/affront. Banner's alter ego was not a 'thing', though Stephen Hawking was an apt description; Phil's closet nerd was showing.

Rogers' silence made it very clear that the reference had gone right over his head, leaving Tony with the distinct urge to rub every cultural reference from the 1950s onward into the soldier's face. Maybe he would. Pulling his attention back to the conversation, he heard Phil try to explain it away. "He's like a...smart...person."

More radio silence from the good captain. Vindictive glee was something Tony didn't get to revel in too often, so Phil's discomfiture was pretty gratifying, if not short lived with the next words out of his husband's mouth.

"I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you...officially."

Rogers either had a great poker face, or the bright light of Phil's fanboy heart was blinding.

"I've sort of met you...I mean, I watched you, while you were sleeping."

_Christ._

Tony wasn't sure if he was feeling jealousy or amusement at the idea of Phil standing over Rogers' bedside, patiently waiting with a pen in hand to autograph his trading cards. Jealousy won out, since Phil had been watching over Rogers in favor of leaving Tony to sleep alone every night (when he slept). The familiar hurt reared its head, and the situation quickly lost any humor it might have had.

"I mean, I was present, while you were unconscious from the...ice," Phil fumbled.

The distant sound of rustling fabric could have been Rogers getting up, or Phil shuffling in place.

"You know, it's just a, just a huge honor to have on board this…" Phil trailed off, leaving Tony to wonder if he was just an inconvenient addition to the Captain America Show. After all, he was just a fucking consultant; even on the briefing packet, he wasn't listed as an Avenger. They just wanted his tech and his brain and fuck the rest of him.

"I hope I'm the man for the job," Rogers murmured, his tone just shy of brooding.

"Oh, you are. Absolutely. Uh, we made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input," Phil said, and Tony could hear the smile, imagine the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the way his brows would lift slightly, his mouth ticking up at the side before it became an actual smile. He missed that more than he'd ever care to admit out loud.

"The uniform? Aren't the stars and stripes a little...old fashioned?" Rogers tone was dubious at best.

"Everything that's happening...the things that are about to come to light?" Phil paused for a beat, his voice warm and confident when he spoke again. "People might just need a little old fashioned."

Tony was a futurist by nature, as his father was before him. If the technology didn't exist for his vision, he built it later. Old fashioned wasn't in his repertoire. Old fashioned wasn't something that Tony was capable of, even for Phil.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Kudos/comments appreciated!  
_


	5. Well, these days I'm fine (No, these days I tend to lie) Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** A baby chapter! This is just an interlude, but I wanted to get Tony's disdain for Cap out there. The sniping was too good to pass up anyways. Last update for a bit! Thanks to everyone who commented/left kudos! It does my heart good, and I love hearing from you c:

Apprehending Loki had been far too easy, which left him suspicious of the 'god's' motives. The guy had flipped cars and had something going on with illusory shit, which Tony was not in the mood for. Matters were only made worse by the presence of one newly minted Captain America.

While he could have flown back to the Helicarrier, it seemed prudent to watch Reindeer Games and make sure he didn't offend the Captain's delicate sensibilities. The silence was awkward and a little tense, with Romanov seemingly oblivious in the cockpit.

Rogers was the first to speak, his voice gruff while he stared at Loki from their end of the jet.

"I don't like it."

"What, Rock of Ages giving up so easily?" Tony queried, glancing at Loki out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't remember it being that easy. This guy packs a wallop."

While it was good to know Rogers wasn't entirely stupid, who said _wallop_? Seriously.

"Still, you _are_ pretty spry for an older fellow," Tony remarked, turning his head to look at Rogers. "What's your thing, Pilates?"

Tony was well aware that he was pressing buttons, but the giddy sense of vindictive glee (which he was getting to experience that more and more lately) kept him needling at the other man.

"What?" Rogers snapped, obviously unimpressed by Tony's rambling.

"It's like calisthenics. You might have missed a couple things, y'know," Tony paused, fighting a smirk, "doing time as a Capsicle."

Rogers fell silent, glaring at Tony as if he'd like nothing more than to toss him out of the airlock.

"Fury didn't tell me he was calling you in," he said, voice low.

So that's how it was.

"Yeah. There's a lot of things Fury doesn't tell you."

The appearance of a violent thunderstorm shook the jet, eliciting a soft whine and a wide eyed gaze from Loki.

"What's the matter? Scared of a little lightning?" Rogers asked, his tone mocking.

"I'm not overly fond of what follows," Loki replied, just before he was yanked from his harness by another freak in a cape sporting a giant hammer.

Well damn.

Tony had his helmet on before Rogers could think to say no. Not that Tony would listen, in any case.

"We need a plan of attack," Rogers insisted, just as Tony approached the open hatch. He was making it far too easy for Tony to hate him (more than he already did).

"I have a plan. Attack."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos/comments are love!


	6. Well, these days I'm fine (No, these days I tend to lie) - Pt 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Sorry about the wait! I really like this one since I got to deviate away from the Avengers script. Phil and Tony are my babies, and I love their word play. I don't know if I'll be covering much more, or if I'll just do a quick segue into Phil's...well, you know. As always, a big thanks to my beta **BigTimeHiddlestoner** , and thank you to everyone who comments!

Getting out of the armor after a session with Thor's hammer had been interesting, to say the least. Without a disassembly unit, he was left with a rather unhelpful JARVIS and emergency catches that were difficult to find when one couldn't bend or twist.

The whirring of servos let him know that someone had touched the armor and disengaged the emergency locks, which meant that one of the three people with that knowledge was behind him. Pepper was in DC, and Rhodey was wherever the fuck he went, leaving Phil. Goddamn.

Stepping out of the armor was a relief, even if he had his husband to thank. The arc reactor still buzzed with the remnants of Thor's power surge, though his body ached with the bruises of getting batted around like a god's personal pinball.

"I'm surprised you don't have other places to be," Tony muttered as he looked for the equipment to haul the armor onto the workbench SHIELD had thoughtfully provided. Phil hadn't moved, emanating calm and good vibes, or whatever the hell they were called. It was starting to piss Tony off.

Phil thought he could just step in and out of Tony's life, chase after Captain America, and ignore their marriage. Ironically enough, Tony had been the one trying to be good, to make it work. He loved Phil more than he would probably ever say out loud, but wasn't sure if that would be enough in the presence of Captain America in the flesh. He didn't jump when the hand touched his shoulder, but it was a near thing.

"Tony. Look at me," Phil murmured. It was a clear order, though Tony was too tired to consider ignoring it. The hand on his shoulder was warm, the pressure of a thumb pressing in _just right_ , forcing Tony to bite back a moan.

Glancing back, Tony noted the tense line of his shoulders, and the tightness around his mouth. It was the only reason he turned around to face him, let Phil drag him closer by the lapels of his jacket.

"Won't this burn Fury's lone retina?" Tony muttered, unable to resist as Phil reeled him in.

"This room is on loop," Phil said matter-of-factly, maneuvering Tony against the nearest wall.

"Help! I think I need an adult!" Tony yelled, squirming a bit. "Or someone who has actually seen me in the past few months!"

He knew he'd hit paydirt by the downward slope of Phil's mouth. It was minor, and hard to spot, but the signs were there. Phil _did_ feel guilty, which was mollifying, at least. The hands on his lapels moved to his hips, keeping him pinned to the wall while Phil's eyes met Tony's. Feeling as if he were under a microscope, Tony put his hands on Phil's, ready to throw them off if he even so much as heard a bar of 'Star Spangled Man'.

"I know I've been away recently-" Phil began, his gaze steady.

"I know this answer!" Tony volunteered, knowing his grin had a few too many teeth.

"Matters have gotten out of hand, and a lot of things have come to light. I never intended to be away from home for so long."

"Yeah. Well, you were. Can we just go and save the day now? No wishy washy shit."

"I think we need to talk."

Tony looked away, his jaw set. Talking never meant anything good, and he'd avoid it at all costs if he could. At the same time, Phil's hands were warm on his hips; when did his thumbs start circling while applying the perfect amount of pressure?

"I think I wanted to talk, but you couldn't make time."

"You were sexting; that's not talking."

"It was an invitation to better things," Tony argued. "You could have replied with actual words, y'know."

Phil huffed out a breath, his shoulders losing some of their tension. Torn between wanting to either hug or shove his husband, Tony forced himself to stand still, hands twitching at his sides.

"Still. You've been acting off for months, Tony. I know for a fact you're not dying, but this can't go on any longer."

Tony could feel the guillotine, the noose tightening around his neck. This scene had played out in his head over a thousand ways since they got married: _I can't take it anymore. I don't want you anymore. This isn't working out._

Over and over, the words replayed themselves in his head, though Phil hadn't actually said any of it. Dread curled in his stomach, nausea creeping upward, his chest aching under the weight of the arc reactor. They'd made it four years, been together for nearly seven. That was considered a good run, right?

"Tell me what's going on," Phil said, the demand clear even if his voice was gentle and the hands on his hips steadying. Phil was gifted that way, conveying intent without having to put much into words. Tony wanted to pull away, to avoid the bitterness welling up inside, to keep from spewing out the vitriol that had been building momentum since Captain America had been hauled out of the ice.

Phil's hands kept him in place, warm through the layers of his suit.

"Not trying to bitch, but for someone who drags me out of my workshop because I haven't surfaced for air in awhile, you're a walking hypocrite. If you can't be fucked to come home because you're stuck up SHIELD's ass, that's not really my problem."

"You know I have important work at SHIELD," Phil tried to reason, though he seemed to know it was the wrong thing to say as Tony's gaze narrowed on _important work_. There is was, ladies and gentlemen: the crux of the matter.

"Yeah yeah, keeping the world safe from threats, I get that," Tony growled, staring at a random spot on the far wall. "I also know where your priorities lie, and who they lie with, especially now. _I am not on that list_ ," he seethed, dragging his gaze back to Phil's.

Phil's expression hardly changed as he parsed through Tony's words, though he obviously didn't draw any good conclusions if his tightening grip was any indication.

"All this time?" He asked slowly, enunciating each word.

"Keeping my workshop cold didn't seem like it would get you to come home. I asked Pep if a flag motif would look good in the apartment, but she said those colors would clash with the furniture or something. Turns out I had nothing to lure you back with," Tony replied, despising the humiliating crack in his voice.

"I don't know why you want to talk all of a - " he began, but Phil's hand clamped over his mouth cut off his protests. It was embarrassing, the way the contact had his nerves buzzing, electricity skating up and down his spine.

"Shut up," Phil ordered, crowding into Tony's space. With one hand still clamped firmly over his mouth, Phil raised the other to cup the back of Tony's head, fingers buried in the short hairs at his nape. "Shut up and listen. We have horrible timing when it comes to our marriage. We lead very difficult lives that come with great responsibility. While my collection is impressive, I have never considered what you are implying."

Tony hated himself for the whine that escaped from his throat. They needed to talk like adults, which would never happen unless they were both less than sober, but this was pretty damned close. Phil was always adept at seeing through Tony's wordplay, always able to see through the bullshit and get to the heart of the matter. He loved that about him; it was one of the main reasons Tony was willing to tie the knot with the man.

"You're going to save the world. You're going to team up with a bunch of very dysfunctional people, and you are going to stop Loki from whatever the hell he has planned. You're going to come home at the end of this, and I will make pancakes, you will make eggs, and we will re- watch Star Trek," Phil said, his voice breathy.

He pulled his hand away, eyes wide and bright as he breathed in, already centering himself from his rant. Tony didn't let him go far, and instead wrapped one arm around Phil's waist, anchoring him to his front. He opened his mouth to say something snarky, but "I love you" tumbled out without his permission. Brow furrowed, Tony rolled the words around in his mouth before saying it again, "I love you."

Phil stared at him, disbelief eking through his mask of pleasant calm; it figured that Tony would make his husband speechless during a crisis.

"I love you too," he replied eventually, the lines around his mouth softening.

"I think we're supposed to be fighting," Tony quipped, even as their heads tipped and their mouths pressed together.

"Mm," Phil hummed, sounding far too nonchalant.

The kiss wasn't filthy like their very first, chaste like their first 'real' kiss, or sloppy like when they were tearing each others' clothes off. It was passionate and slow, low sounds emitted from throats as hands stroked through hair, bodies pressing closer, yet not close enough. It was a meeting; becoming reacquainted after far too long apart. It was perfect and painful, because it was Phil. It would always be Phil.

Breaking apart was almost physically painful, and Tony quickly became aware of their soft pants and the situation they were in. He wished they weren't saving the world, and that they could spend more time pressed against each other without any worries or responsibilities.

"We should probably go," Phil murmured, sounding genuinely regretful as he ran his hands through Tony's hair one last time. It only took a few moments for Phil to straighten his jacket and adopt the calm facade that he wore like a second skin.

There had to be a Guiness record for placid poker faces; if not, Tony would make one.

"Do I have to be nice to the other kids in the sandbox?" Tony snarked, following Phil out of the room and down a series of hallways that Tony vaguely recollected from the Helicarrier specs he'd worked/spied on with JARVIS.

"Yes. You're an adult. Act like it."

"Yes, Dad."

Phil nearly stumbled, and from the corner of his eye, Tony could see pink dusting his cheeks and the back of his neck. Score.

"After all of this, I think we deserve a break," he continued conversationally as they approached the doors that would open onto the main deck.

"What kind of break?" Phil asked, and Tony could tell he was humoring him. They both knew that it would be a long while before any kind of break would come their way.

"A vacation. With communication or some shit," Tony explained, trying to not-so-subtly hint that they really should talk more.

The door opened, and Tony's ears perked up at the sound of a voice saying, "I think it's about the mechanics. Iridium…what do they need the iridium for?"

"It's a stabilizing agent," Tony called out as he and Phil walked onto the deck. Turning to Phil, Tony murmured, "I'm just saying. Pick a weekend, and we'll fly to the house in Portland."

Phil nodded towards the team, his trademark not-smile plastered on his face.

"Keep the love alive," Tony cajoled/pleaded before he turned to the almighty Avengers Initiative. A ninja in a catsuit, an American poster boy in a spandex unitard, the god of thunder and a man with a rage monster hiding beneath a rumpled professor exterior. What great ingredients for disaster. Getting back to the topic at hand, he continued, "It means that the portal won't collapse on itself like it did at SHIELD."

Tony skirted the table, sidling up to Thor and slapping his arm. "No hard feelings, Point Break. You've got a mean swing." Moving around the table once more, Tony explained further, "It also means the portal can open as wide, and stay open as long as Loki wants."

Making his way to the command center of the ship, looked down and then around at the crew, which was pointedly ignoring the Assembly of Dysfunction.

"Eh...raise the mizzenmast. Jib the topsails." Spotting something out of the corner of his eye, Tony pointed to his right and called out, "That man is playing _Galaga_."

He could feel Captain America's gaze practically burning a hole when he glanced at the table behind him. "He thought we wouldn't notice, but we did."

Galaga Guy, who Tony decided would be Galaga Chad in the back of his mind, had the presence of mind to look sheepish and switch back to his screen. Meanwhile, Tony covered one eye and asked out loud while gesturing to the holo-screens, "How does Fury even see these?"

Maria Hill's crisp, no-nonsense tone answered with, "He turns."

"Sound exhausting," Tony retorted, fiddling with the touch screens, sifting through data and projections absentmindedly. "The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily," Tony explained, picking up the prior topic of conversation. "The only other major component he needs is a power source of high-energy density."

Meandering about, Tony rambled on while discreetly pressing a bug to the bottom of one console, trusting JARVIS to do the rest. "Something to...kick start the cube."

Hill's voice sounded rather disbelieving when she asked, "When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?"

Tony turned to look at her, matching her look, "Last night. The packet. Selvig's notes. The extraction theory papers. Am I the only one who did the reading?"

Rogers piped up with a question, not raising his hand like a good boy before asking, "Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?"

The rumpled professor, who had remained silent until Rogers spoke, countered, "He'd have to heat the cube to 120-million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier."

"Unless," Tony argued, "Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect."

"Well, if he could to that, he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet."

Tony glanced at Phil, who had taken up a position somewhere else, then crowed, "Finally. Someone who speaks English."

He took the number of steps to bring himself toe to toe with his science companion, even as Rogers muttered, "Is that what happened?"

Reaching out and shaking Banner's hand, Tony pitched his voice low, injecting a sense of intimacy in their introduction.

"It's good to meet you, Dr. Banner. Your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled."

They shook hands and then Tony said a little louder, waving his hand a bit, "And I'm a fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage-monster."

Banner pursed his lips, glancing away before looking back at Tony, "...Thanks."

Fury popped up from fuck knows where, intruding on Tony and Banner's moment by saying in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring, "Dr. Banner is only here to track the Tesseract. I was hoping you might join him."

Tony knew a dismissal when he heard one. It resonated with "Iron Man yes, Tony Stark not recommended", but he didn't argue, instead sharing a knowing look with Banner.

Rogers, bless his heart, threw out his own suggestion. "I would start with that stick of his. It may be magical, but it works an awful lot like a HYDRA weapon."

"I don't know about that, but it is powered by the cube," Fury replied. "And I'd like to know how Loki used it to turn two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys."

Thor had the grace to look confused, his brows furrowed when he asked, "Monkeys? I do not understand."

Tony rolled his eyes, and even Banner looked a bit disbelieving beside him.

"I do," Rogers blurted, pointing at nothing in particular. "I understood that reference.

Fed up with Captain America's presence and the probable fanboying that was going on wherever his husband was at, Tony turned to Banner.

"Shall we play, Doctor?"

Bruce smirked a bit, shaking his head as he gestured to a set of doors.

"This way, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are love!


End file.
